


sweet words and fevers

by allezgarcia (harrysmiles)



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-19 23:40:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15521289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harrysmiles/pseuds/allezgarcia
Summary: pierre buries his face underneath nico's jaw and says, his voice muffled and raspy, “you know we'll make it next year, right?”.





	sweet words and fevers

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: this is a made-up story, which has nothing to do with the real life. also both nico and pierre don't have girlfriends in this reality because i'm an awful person, apparently.  
> it's a little bit angsty and doesn't really have a proper plot so. i'm sorry?
> 
> title: hard feelings/loveless by lorde

–march, 2017

they lose in the second round in indian wells, the match is quick and heavy, like a cold shower; when they are in the locker room, pierre is silent, his face pale, the tiredness written all over it. he stretches his right hand, and nico takes the wristband off it. it's not like pierre to be this silent after defeats (nico remembers him talking non-stop in zadar back in 2016, when the whole team was swearing and sobbing all at once and pierre was too, but he was also the first to stop it and to start talking, and that has somehow made things easier.)

nico feels dizzy and just wants to have a shower and to do the press-conference as soon as possible; so he tells pierre, “tough luck today”, and pierre nods and smiles, and the numbness seems to be gone; nico really hopes so.

it's not that kind of defeat that leaves you breathless and steals your sleep later, they'll discuss the match, learn from the mistakes and move on, that's what tennis is, doubles or singles. “we have our ups and downs”, pierre says during the press-conference, and doesn't smile, still looking tired as if they've just survived a five-set thriller. (sometimes a two-sets loss is even tougher to deal with.) nico thinks of zadar, again, how he himself couldn't stop crying and pierre was rubbing his back, how they just couldn't be left alone for all that horrendous weekend, and how pierre kissed nico in his hotel room for the first time, his warm fingers touching nico's cheek, still hot and wet. 

 

–september, 2016

in zadar, the pain of their semifinal loss is nauseating and the whole team is tired of seeing each other's sad faces. they all part, finally, after dozens of hugs and goodnights and kisses, and nico locks up in his room and just sleeps through monday, trying not to hear the croats cheering in the streets. pierre knocks at his door at 7pm, hugs him when nico opens the door, kisses him on the cheek, when he locks it. he still looks dead tired, and nico makes him lay down on his unmade bed; pierre hides his face in a pillow and he's asleep seconds later.

nico can't sleep anymore, so he just lays there, watching pierre's face, barely visible in the darkness. pierre wakes up half an hour later, and he still looks tired; “you can sleep more if you want”, nico tells him, but pierre shakes his head, “i'm alright. just wanted to see you.”

“i won't dissapear, if you close your eyes, you know”, says nico, and pierre snorts, rolls on his back and falls asleep again, or just pretends to. nico wonders, if he's even slept since their saturday loss.

he falls asleep too, eventually; when he wakes, it's dark, and pierre's still laying on his back, right hand tucked under the pillow. nico says, “hey”, and pierre turns to him, moves closer and kisses him, and nico almost gasps at how he does it: like they've done it forever; he wants to say something, but he can't: pierre lowers his head and kisses nico's neck, his breaths hot.

nico doesn't know how much time they spend like this, and then pierre buries his face underneath nico's jaw and says, his voice muffled and raspy, “you know we'll make it next year, right?”. he pulls away and smiles, and this is when nico finally sees how red his eyes still are, even in the dark, but pierre's smiling, and nico has no energy not to believe him, so he just nods. pierre puts his head on his chest, and nico thinks he could spend days just laying here like that.

“i don't know how much time i've got”, he says before he can help it; the words scare him, but it's too late. pierre raises his head and looks at him, “you're not leaving me anytime soon”, he says and nico snorts, “don't talk to me like i'm eighty or something.”

“then stop saying such things”, pierre grumbles, and nico puts his hand in his hair, tugs at it slowly. he's feeling pierre's deep breaths against his collarbone. “i'm serious, nico”, pierre states minutes later, “we'll do it”, and nico doesn't think of a better answer than, “of course we will.”

 

–may, 2017

somewhere in may, they start arguing; not that they've never done it before, but not like this: it begins slowly, as if unintentionally, but the irritation grows, and they can't resist, too stressed or too tired or both. nico hisses at pierre at the changeover during their second round match in rome, “would you please move forward after the fucking serve, pierre?”, and pierre doesn't flinch, doesn't answer, just drinks his water and laces up his shoes. he doesn't look at nico when they return to the baseline, just holds his fist out and nico pumps it, not looking at pierre either. he isn't proud of that.

somehow they win the match, shake hands with the opponents and finally hug; pierre lets go of nico first and doesn't look at him until they are alone in the locker room, “what is it?”, he asks, and nico says, already regretting it, “nothing, just think about what you're doing out there, is all”, and pierre shakes his head, tells him, “i'm going to the shower”, doesn't even slam the door when he does so.

nico thinks, “fuck that” and leaves the locker room before pierre is back, waits for him so they could do the presser, and then they part for the rest of the day, their coaches stare at them silently, but don't say a word.

nico calls jo, because he has nothing better to do, and tells him, “i think i've messed up”; jo takes a long breath and tells him to fuck off almost gently, and nico doesn't blame him. “go and apologize”, jo says eventually, and nico promises he will.

he texts pierre in two or three hours, hoping he'll see the message till morning, “wanna hit tomorrow?”, and he doesn't mean it as an apology, but it's still something. pierre answers, “maybe” and then “in case fabrice doesn't kill you”, and nico hates himself. they hit together in the morning, like nothing happened. an hour or so later, they sit on a bench together and discuss their second round strategy, and nico manages to put in, “look, i'm sorry”. pierre's face is unreadable, as it is sometimes during their final matches, and nico hates himself even more.

they get to the quarters, pierre is screaming at their box, and nico literally wants to kiss him right there, but.

“it's okay”, pierre tells him in the locker room, when they re alone. he's all smiles and dark eyes and sweaty hair. nico wants to cry, and he kisses pierre just to stop it; he doesn't feel tired at all.

 

–november, 2017

“i'm sorry”, pierre tells him, his hands cupping nico's cheeks. he looks like he's about to cry. “i'm so sorry.”

“don't be”, nico tells him, because that's the right thing to say. “was not your decision, anyway.”

“they could at least tell us earlier”, pierre says. his fingers are passing round nico's shoulder blades. “you'll do this”, nico tells him, just to make a lump in his throat push off. “richard is a way better doubles partner than me.”

pierre grins, looks at nico's face closely like he's never seen him before. “maybe he is”, he whispers, means it as a joke, but they don't laugh. “i love you”, pierre says seconds later, his tone soft and casual like they are discussing their strategy for tomorrow, and the lump in nico's throat is there again. “love you too”, he answers.

+

nico does his very best not to cry, when he watches pierre and richard warming up. he looks at the crowd and pretends he is one of them, because he is today. he won't cry anymore, until the end of the match, maybe.

he has some flashbacks in his head and he doesn't have a slightest idea where they come from; he gives up to them anyway; it's pierre, mostly: pierre steals his phone and takes pictures of himself like he's fifteen; pierre carefully wanders through their hotel suite after having a painkiller injection into his foot; pierre makes a brilliant return winner, turns to nico, his cheeks burning and his eyes wide; pierre talks nico down while he can't stop crying about that 2016 davis cup semifinal.

“we'll do it together”, pierre told him earlier today, “you know we will”, and it's impossible not to believe him, again.

he watches pierre and richard winning the first set, losing the second and then winning the third, and the forth, and then he doesn't remember himself. pierre throws himself at him, and he's screaming something, that nico doesn't understand, and he doesn't have to. “you are the best”, he tells pierre later, and then he tells that to richard, too. pierre laughs like that's all he can do, says, “i'm really not.”

“you are”, he says because he doesn't want to stop, just can't physically; someone sounding like lucas says, “oh you two, get a room already”, and nico doesn't care. not today.


End file.
